Two champagne flutes rested on Ian's desk, celebrating the official handover from the ODC team to the group that would pilot the ship the rest of the way. He had stood trying to concentrate as Sally, nestled comfortably into his chair, had begun this tutorial session for restful Italian holidays by indicating that some choices had to made. His preoccupied mind quickly shifted away from his holiday options. Ian knew the most important choice he had before him this day was whether or not to act on his interest in the woman currently sitting at his desk. No stranger to professional decision-making, he now found himself in the unfamiliar territory of personal indecision.

"So, I think I'd prefer that, actually."

Ian Fletcher curiously ignored his personal assistant's faux pas. "Sally, about all of this. I think—" He watched mystified as she tripped over her tongue trying to turn back time.

Her cheeks flushed red. She shifted uneasily on her feet and was no longer able to look at him. "Yes, no, it's not a problem…I mean, it's probably for the best…"

In an instant, Sally Owen had felt her world crash. It had all been going so well, she'd been helping him plan his upcoming holiday to Italy, taking the lead and offering tips and suggestions for the perfect getaway following the roller coaster of the last seven years of his life. They were talking casually about things other than their work—and then, lost in her own fantasy, she had let it slip. I'd think I prefer that, actually.

Never mind that it was his holiday she was planning, she knew she had subconsciously and very verbally revealed her desire to accompany him, and her heart was laid open with a simple statement. Her fairly open secret was officially out and she couldn't take it back. Claiming innocence was fruitless; Ian was no fool. He probably suspected anyway, and would see through her in a single beat of her longing heart, and now that the unspoken had been spoken, he would have to address it. But Ian was a gentleman; she knew the expected polite rejection was coming. What claim could she possibly have to someone like him? And as was her way, she had wanted to make it easy for him. She rambled and backpedaled, frantically searching for a way out.

"Hang on, you haven't heard what I was going to say yet." Ian hadn't time for a detour into whatever Sally was on about. He had heard something about airfares, a basilica and a cappuccino, but he had other things on his mind, namely a determination to finally deal with his awareness of her feelings toward him and his own growing attraction to her before it was too late. He'd waffled enough over the last month, vacillating between desire and insecurity over an uncertain professional future and fresh wounds from a relationship gone terribly wrong. But now, his divorce final and his ODC desk nearly cleared, he felt he was again on the clock, a different deadline near and with only one loose end left to tie before she disappeared from his life. Again.

"Yes, right." Chastised, Sally waited quietly, able only to shoot him the most furtive hopeful glance.

Ian paused again, taking a deep breath and forging ahead. "Do you think you might want to have dinner with me tonight?" Finding himself talking to the top of her head, he leaned in to draw her eye from the floor, slowly rediscovering the confident executive within him and taking charge. "I mean, I think we need to talk before we pack all this up. Uh, you know, about us. You. Me. Italy. All of it, really."

He gave a quick scan of the ODC outer office and, noticing the various members of his team scattered about in close proximity, Ian longed for the days of solid walled offices with lockable doors. Sill, problems were solutions waiting to happen. He did what he did best. He came up with a solution. "Not here, obviously. Look, what do you say we call it a day? Why don't you go on home, put on your best posh frock and I'll meet you there, say, about six thirty."

Sally stood unmoving, fearful that a single gesture would somehow shatter the fantasy world in which she now found herself. Their job nearly done, the ODC handover complete, she had approached this day in dread of losing him again. She had hung on his every word in his final speech to his team, appreciating his sincere sentiments. It's hard to imagine not coming through that door every day and seeing you. And she desperately tried to hear the things he wasn't saying. Now, she heard that he wanted to be alone with her, perhaps to say the things she had been waiting a lifetime for. Would more be handed over today than just the Olympics? They had teetered on the edge of romance for so long, or had that only been in her head? She was to go home and ready herself for a Friday night date with the man who visited her dreams every Friday night for years. But similar opportunity had slipped away before and she had always awakened alone come Saturday morning.

Ian's tentative touch on her arm brought her attention back to him.

"I'll get us a reservation somewhere and we'll have ourselves a night out…to celebrate all this—and, well, to maybe settle a few things for ourselves." He searched her face for a reaction, but wasn't sure what he found there. "I still have the address in my mobile. All right? Sally?"

"Ah, yes. Right." She nodded, wanting all at once to please, and believe, in him. She made a small casual move toward the door, but stopped and turned back to him. "So, I will just see you when you get there then."

He must have heard the need for reassurance in her voice. Ian stepped closer, not quite close enough to draw the attention of co-workers in the outer office, but near enough to take her breath away. "Six thirty. I promise."

She remembered nothing of her journey home to Shepherd's Bush. Once there, Sally tried to push away the niggling doubt that somehow he wouldn't show; that something would come up—another giant pile of horse shit, a disaster at the Olympic site, a looming international crisis or perhaps an intergalactic diplomat that needed the kind of soothing only Ian could provide. She cursed herself, believing that she shouldn't have let him out of her sight until the declarations had been made and the elephant had finally been herded out of the room.

Resisting the urge to constantly check her mobile phone for a text saying she'd been stood up, she busied herself by tidying, dressing and, as she had done a little more than a year earlier, waiting.

The soft rap on her door came only a few agonizing minutes past the appointed arrival time, and Sally glanced down at her chest to assure herself that her pounding heart could not be seen in the open neckline of her best black dress. Satisfied that the only visible heart was the silver one she wore on a chain, she opened the door.

As promised, Ian stood, roses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, in a fresh blue shirt and grey suit. Around his neck was the patterned navy blue necktie Sally had bought for him the night before he had appeared on BBC's radio Today Show—the very tie that precipitated a heated public row with his then wife and set them on the path to divorce. He pretended not to notice the unmistakable look of relief on the face of his date.

"See? On time, but over budget," he smiled, offering up his flowers and wine. "Just like the Olympics."

"No," mumbled Sally quickly, taking the gifts. "Yes. Thank you. You didn't have to, ah, they're beautiful, actually. Come in, please."

"So, you look nice," said Ian. He watched as Sally moved off with the flowers and immediately began arranging them in a vase, her back to him. She was never one to leave a task for later. Smiling knowingly, he moved in behind her in the small kitchen. "I made a reservation for seven-thirty. I thought that would give us a little time to have a drink first."

"Yes." Without looking up, she motioned toward the cupboard. "There are glasses in there." She hoped she didn't look as anxious as she felt. Here he was. In her flat. With no co-workers or meetings to interrupt them. Sally made a silent prayer for his overworked Blackberry to take the night off.

He reached for two wine glasses and, before he could ask, found Sally handing a corkscrew over her shoulder. Of course. He pulled the cork on the bottle. Pouring out the drinks, he caught himself appreciating the curves accentuated by her clingy dress. Wanting a distraction, he sipped at his own drink, and reached around Sally to hand her the other glass.

Keenly aware of his presence behind her, Sally finished with the flowers and stared straight ahead as she also took a long draw from her wine, trying to stay calm and not let her curiosity of what this night would bring run away with her.

After draining his glass, Ian set it down on the counter beside her, and let his hands rest gently on her hips. He felt her stiffen and gasp slightly at his touch. He bent his head lower so that she could feel his breath on her neck and spoke softly into her ear.

"Sally, if we're going to make any progress at all tonight, you're eventually going to have to relax and look at me." He felt some of the tension leave her as she exhaled and nodded in agreement. Ian allowed her to turn in his arms, but did not step back. "I think we both want the same thing now. At least I think I'm ready to try it."

She slowly looked up into his blue eyes, and remembered how very much she liked them. She wondered if those eyes could see right through her. Could he tell how desperately she wanted to kiss him? How badly she wanted to lean into his body and feel his embrace? He must have known. He gently relieved her of the wine glass that she clutched in the space between them. She felt the burn in her cheek as he softly traced the outline of her jaw with his fingertips and his hands came to rest beside her face.

Unable to think of a single reason to wait any longer, she made the next move and lifted her chin and eagerly met his lips. The long-awaited kiss lingered and she slid her own arms up and across his broad shoulders and wrapped them tightly around his neck, her fingers settling in the wisps of wavy hair at his collar, completing a journey seven years in coming.

After a time, their lips parted, but neither made much of a move to separate. Despite trying to suppress her smile, Sally's face radiated the sincere feelings she had harbored practically since the day she met her boss.

"So," said Ian, wearing a satisfied expression of his own. How could he have ever doubted that this was what he wanted? "Did I mention that I am very glad you came back?"

Sally chuckled, remembering something she had once said long ago. "You didn't have to."

He gave her a hint of a smile, but something else suddenly flashed in his eyes. "Why did you do it?"

"Do it?" She tilted her head, in that adorably confused manner he loved. "What, you mean come back?"

"No." Ian shook his head. "Sally, I'd like…I need to know why you left."

Her face flushed. "Oh, well, something came up, that's all," she said quickly, trying to dismiss the topic. "But that's in the past now." She didn't want to discuss this. She hadn't wanted to discuss it when she reunited with him in the hospital, and she didn't want to discuss it now. Besides what did it matter? They were together, finally. Sally tried to pull away, but Ian caught her arm and made her look at him again.

"Please," he said. "Tell me. I just want to know the truth. Why did you leave, and what was it that made you come back?"

"I couldn't, I mean, it was just," her confidence shaken, she fumbled for the words to express what occurred a year ago. She stopped and started again. He had asked for the truth, and she knew the time had come. Why hide it now? She decided to tell at least part of it. And, besides, she simply needed to say it. "Basically, I left because I was…massively, hopelessly in love with my boss." She gave a small chuckle. "And I guess I came back for the same reason."

"That doesn't make any sense." He held her around the waist again. "I know I've been a bit thick, but I thought even then that we were…getting closer. If that was what you wanted, why did you just up and leave without even telling me? Was it just because I didn't turn up here that one night?"

"No," said Sally, blushing. "Well, yes. But it was fine, really. I mean I had no right to feel the way I did. It was my fault entirely, actually. I shouldn't have interfered. I know Laur…um, she…was your wife and everything, and I should have been happy you got back together with her-"

"What are you talking about? Got back together?" Ian was genuinely confused. "Are we talking about the same night? I'm talking about when you resigned."

Yes," said Sally. "That night. I mean I'd got your text and everything, and it wasn't a problem, and I should have expected you'd want to…try to work things out with…her." She clearly didn't believe a word she was saying, and in the burden of lying to him she felt she needed a little distance and gently tried to escape his grasp.

"Stop running away from me." Ian held Sally at the elbows. "Sally, what are you talking about? Work things out with Laura? That never happened. Ever. Once we split, it was over. We hardly said a civil word again."

"No," said Sally. "Really, it isn't a problem or anything, and it doesn't matter now anyway. I overreacted. I just couldn't face you after you…knowing you and she were…and after the way she treated you… and I just—I mean, it's fine. It doesn't matter now. You were married—"

"Wait," said Ian, "you think we…? Why ever would you think that? You knew better than anyone how bad things had got between Laura and me."

Sally tried to balance her memory of that night with what Ian was saying. Somehow, something was missing. "But…you sent a text. You said you'd both had too much to drink and you would be staying there...uh, you know, for the night. With her."

"Yes," said Ian, the realization of the misunderstanding dawning on him. "Oh, god. No. Sally, you see, she was waiting up for me. She suggested a drink and a quick talk to sort a few things out so we could at least be civil about it all. I shouldn't have done it, but after the day we'd had at work, I admit I quickly had more than one glass of wine, and on an empty stomach it was a pretty bad idea all around. Anyway, yes, in truth Laura did actually come on to me—"

Sally cringed. "Ian, you don't need to explain—"

"No," said Ian. "I want to. Just listen." He looked hard into her eyes, imploring her to believe him. "I turned her down, Sally. There wasn't enough wine on earth to make me want to sleep with her. If I'm honest, I wasn't crazy about it the last few years of our marriage either. Anyway, I had no interest in her that night, and I'm sure the only interest she had in me was to get control over our separation."

"Control?"

"Yes. She threw me out, remember? She locked me out of our residence and that directly led to our separation. Legally, that put me in a better position as we went through the formalities of the divorce. She knew that even better than I did. I think she kept wanting me to return home when she was there, not out of love, but because if she could get me to sleep with her that would be a reconciliation in the eyes of the court, and we'd basically start over legally." He paused for just a moment. "And that's partly why I couldn't come here that night."

Sally tried to follow him. "But, why…"

"She'd already accused us of having an affair," said Ian. "You know that. And she did it again that night when I knocked her back. I could hardly deny an affair with you and then rush off to your place in the middle of the night, now could I? It occurred to me that I might be followed, or that she had an investigator snooping around or something. She has access to all that stuff. Anyway, we had a fight. A huge fight. It had gotten late, and I had nowhere else to go, so I slept on the sofa, alone. I got the keys to my flat and the rest of my things out of the house in the morning and came to work. That's all that happened. Until I realized you were gone."

Stunned, Sally stared at him, taking it all in. They hadn't slept together. For someone who prided herself on her intuition where he was concerned, how could she have missed this? She'd waited for him that night; did everything she could to prepare to make his stay as comfortable as possible, imagining that the small intimate step of simply having him in her flat, even in a spare bedroom, would open the door for something more. She'd told herself that she would somehow finally find a way to tell him, to show him beyond doubt how she felt about him—to finally confess that she loved him.

But that midnight text had shattered her plan along with her heart. He wasn't coming. Instead, he was spending a drunken night with his wife. And though she had tried to cope and carry on, the next morning, hearing herself recounting the events for the camera, she had realized her own pathetic folly. It didn't help to also realize Ian was late. Her jealous mind imagining the worst, she had found herself unwilling to wait until he climbed out of his shrewish wife's bed and turned up to eat the breakfast and cappuccino she had lovingly set out for him despite being stood up. Embarrassed and feeling quite the fool, she had surrendered to the pain of unrequited love and quietly chucked her few personal possessions into a box and left-stopping at the human resources office just long enough to tender her resignation.

Now, more than a year later, looking at Ian she understood what he was asking her. He had not unknowingly betrayed her; instead, she had hurt him. His wife had basically ended their troubled relationship by walking out on him. And then just as he was extricating himself from that relationship Sally, whom he had started to depend on and turn to for more and more, had suddenly walked out on him, too. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I wasted a lot of time we could have been together." She mourned the lost chance to help him settle in at his new place, and she mourned the cozy lost days and nights that might have followed.

Ian surprised her by shaking his head. "No. It wouldn't have been that easy. I was still married, and neither one of us would've wanted our relationship to be a sticking point in Fletcher vs. Fletcher."

Sally shrugged. "It wouldn't have been a problem if we were together. I wouldn't have cared."

"You would have," corrected Ian. "And so would I. You would have been a party to my divorce and no matter what the truth was, I would always have been known as the executive who left his wife for his secretary. Laura would have made sure of it." He smiled, anticipating the inevitable coming reaction from his ex-. "She still might." He exhaled deeply and rubbed his face with his hands. "But I guess it doesn't matter now. Laura is out of my life for good, and you are back in it. I just want you to know that I did miss you, though. I mean, Daniel got the hang of the work eventually, but he was hardly a substitute for you. We got on, but we never quite…uh, clicked."

"Mmm, yes, I know," said Sally. "Ian, I'm sorry. I should have—"

"So what made you come back?"

Sally shrugged again. Wasn't the answer obvious? "You needed me," she said. "When I heard on the news that you had been injured, I basically realized that staying away from you had done nothing to change how...my feelings. I never felt like I was away, really, anyway. I mean, you were in the newspapers and on television, and with all the Olympic publicity and everything, I saw or thought about you every day. But when I knew you were hurt, I couldn't stand waiting for updates on the television, and I couldn't very well call you, soI rang Daniel that night just to ask if you were all right. I made him promise not to say anything. Then the next day he rang back and said he was leaving you for Seb. I couldn't believe he would do that to you so close to the end, just walk out on you like that, and I basically told him so. And then he suggested I come back, that I was the only one who could step in for him and make it work for the last month. I couldn't let the last seven years get away from you at the last minute just because Daniel wanted to climb the ladder. You'd sacrificed too much and worked too hard." She paused. "No matter how hard it would be to face you again, Ian, I knew I had to do it. So I told him to arrange it and came to see you the next day. And then in hospital it was as if…I'd never left, and, I don't know, it just seemed…right."

"Yes," said Ian. "It did." He pulled her close again. "It still does."

They kissed again, this time a bit more passionately. Lost in his arms, Sally couldn't help but feel another pang of disappointment as Ian suddenly pulled back first.

Unsure of how to take the next step, or even if he should on this, their first date, he swallowed hard and cleared his throat as he checked his watch. Torn between his rather ungentlemanly desires and his manners, he very properly chose the latter. "Uh, we should get going if we're going to make dinner."

Knowing him so well, Sally did what she did best; she expertly wrangled him into what he actually wanted all along. She posed a question. "Are we still, you know, doing that truth thing?"

Ian narrowed his eyes and nodded. "I always think that's best, don't you?"

"Yes, right. Absolutely," Sally said with a wry smile, "Because it's not a problem or anything, but if we are, then the truth is…well, I'd really rather just go to bed, actually."

"Oh, right," said Ian, his confused, slightly wounded expression revealing an unfortunate, but obvious, misinterpretation.

The comically pained, but patient, look on her face quickly helped him understand. "Yes," she said; a word loaded with information, and she waited for the dawn of understanding.

He brightened immediately. "Oh, right. Yes. Of course." She was indeed marvelous, he thought. As nervous and tongue tied as she could be around him at times, Sally possessed the unique ability to quickly and completely take control of a situation and somehow elicit the best possible outcome, and always in his favor. It was perhaps the quality he was attracted to most.

But Ian was himself a man used to being in the driver's seat and would not be outdone. Grinning like a naughty schoolboy, he took her into his arms. A shocked giggle escaped Sally as Ian suddenly reached down and lifted her from the floor. He carried her in his arms to her bedroom, and set her down beside the bed. They kissed as he reached behind her for the zipper of the dress and slowly slid it down her back. His lips wandered to her neck and shoulders as he slipped the dress away from her and it puddled on the floor at her feet.

Wanting him so badly, Sally had to force herself to allow him to work at his pace, but she did her part and loosened and removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. Soon, they were where they both wanted to be, where they should have been a year ago, in her bed and in each other's arms.

Later, lying in the last moments of lingering summer daylight, with her head nestled onto his chest, she heard Ian's soft voice. "Sally," he whispered. "I'd never want to hurt you."

She looked up quizzically, and he answered her unspoken question.

"I'm afraid one thing I've learned the past few years is that my ability to keep a woman happy is somewhat lacking," he said. "It seems I'm a pretty shit relationship partner. I mean, I really wouldn't want you to wake up one day and realize you hated me-"

"Don't," said Sally. "That wasn't your fault. She didn't love you, Ian. I mean, she couldn't have, the way she treated you. The things she said. I didn't tell you half of them."

Ian smiled a thank you, but wasn't ready to let himself off the hook entirely. "I heard enough, but I'm sure some of it was my own fault. There were other problems, of course, but I'm aware that I've reached a point professionally where the demands of my career tend to overtake the other aspects of my life. I mean, working late hours, weekends, my mobile never stops—"

"Yes, thank you, Ian. I know who you are," interrupted Sally. "And you don't have to be anything else for me."

He held her close, knowing he was ready to try love again, but wondering if he was really worthy of Sally's devotion. He was adept and practiced at feigning confidence professionally, less so in his private life. But she had quietly managed to see him safely through most every bump in the ODC road in the past seven years, and more than a few in his personal life, too. So he did what every good executive does, rely on the people best suited to the task to do what they do best; he asked his PA to save him once more. "Sally, don't let me mess this up."

"Yes, no, that's not a problem," Sally smiled, finally secure in the second official handover of the day.